


The Crush

by Ivies_writings (madnauseum)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean Winchester, Gen, Post-Season/Series Finale, Season/Series 09, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:03:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1840276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madnauseum/pseuds/Ivies_writings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knows something is wrong. He searches heaven for the solution to get back to earth to find Dean Winchester. But what Castiel finds is not what he expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crush

Castiel was alone when he felt it. A slight whoosh of air blew through his being like a child dispersing dandelion seeds into the sky. The feeling shifted and he was tethered. Strings began to snap one by one by one until they were all gone. He looked across the heavens. The bright light he expected to see, the one that always guided him, was missing. Castiel realized something was very wrong. 

He went to Hannah. “I need to go to Earth. Now.”

“I don’t know if you can, Castiel. Your grace is weak. You will surely die if you try to go now.”

“Then we need to find a way to make me human!”

“I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to be an angel…”

“He’s not here. Something’s wrong. I can’t feel… I can’t feel our bond. It’s gone.”

“This is about Dean Winchester?”

A voice floated to them from a cell not far away. “It’s always been about Dean Winchester!”

Castiel stood before Metatron and glared. “Where is he? Why isn’t he here? What did you do?”

Metatron’s flint stone eyes smiled as his lips curled. “Oh. He’s dead. I assure you. Who knew an angel blade would be so effective on a Winchester?”

Castiel charged the bars and shook them. “Where is he?”

“I wish I could say. If I were writing this story he wouldn’t be here anyway. I’m not a fan of the happy ending.”

“Then make me human again and send me to earth!”

Metatron laughed mirthlessly and leaned back against the wall of his cell. “Oh Castiel. You’re not the funniest angel I ever met, but- I can’t help you,” he finished darkly.

“You wrote the angel tablet. You turned me human once, you can do it again.”

“I suggest you slice open one of the throats of your followers and juice up.”

“I can’t do that. I won’t.”

“Perhaps there’s another way, Castiel,” Hannah said, her hand on Castiel’s shoulder pulling him away from the holding cell.

“What if you fall to earth, burn out your remaining grace. I will be ready with a few other angels to catch you and heal you.”

“You would do that? For me?”

“You saved us from Metatron. We know Metatron tricked you into closing heaven. You’ve only wanted what was best for all of us. If Dean Winchester is your next mission, then we will help you.”

Castiel looked over at Metatron who had begun twiddling his thumbs patiently. “Of course, if you let me out of this cell, I’m sure I could help you in a way that doesn’t involve a nosedive of death… your choice,” Metatron said. 

“Bite me,” Castiel spat. “We need a plan and we need to do it far away from here.”

As Castiel fell he used the strength from his remaining grace to slow himself down. His muscles burned and his chest grew tighter as the earth was rushing up to greet him. The angels will be there he repeated to himself. The last thing he whispered before he lost consciousness, “I’m coming, Dean.”

Castiel burned with heat and pain. It tugged him from a dark place until he gasped and wheezed air that felt thick. His arms flailed and his legs kicked as he tried to get away from the pain.

“Castiel, you must calm down,” a harsh voice cut through the pain. That’s when he felt the hands. There were many of them, he couldn’t focus to count, but the longer their hands touched him the easier it became to breathe. The shards in his abdomen dulled to an ache. His head which wanted to split in two began to meld together and he could finally feel tears streaming down his face.

“Very good. Just a little bit longer,” the voice soothed. His legs felt warm as the blood rushed and return the flow to his toes.  He was so tired and his eyelids so heavy he dare not open them. Eventually the need for sleep claimed him.

Castiel woke to a dim hotel room. He was still clad in his clothes and trench coat he wore when he ascended to heaven with Gadreel.  He sat up carefully, his head still throbbing as he sat. When that faded, he drank heartily from the bottles of water on the bedside table.  With the pain barely a ghost throughout his body, he stood and stretched and flexed his muscles.

He went to the bathroom and stood before the mirror.  “Well, I’m human.”

He found a phone in the pocket of his coat. He dialed a number he had memorized.

“Cas?” Sam sniffed. “He’s-“

“I know. I’m coming. Where are you?”

“The bunker. But Cas you need to know something.”

“What is it?”

“Dean’s not here.”

“What? I thought…”

“I’ll explain when you get here. Hurry.”

Castiel found his car right outside the hotel room just as he had instructed the angels to do. “Thank you,” he said to the heavens, then he climbed in the boat of a car and left.

Sam was sitting at the library table just a bottle and a glass before him. Sam tried to rise quickly, lost his balance and sat back down. “Whoa. Hey Cas… been sitting here... waiting.”

“What happened, Sam?”

Sam ran his fingers through his hair and took in a ragged breath. “He died. I… I watched Metatron plunge the angel blade right into his stomach. I tried to get him to help. But… but it was too late.” Sam looked down into the brown liquid of his glass before deciding to take another drink.

“So where’s his body? I need to see it.”

Sam cleared his throat. “It’s not here. He…”

“Sam. I don’t understand.”

“I think… I... I don’t know what I think. I know he was dead. I took him back and laid him on a bed. I thought… I thought I might summon Crowley, but when I went back to his body… it was gone. Just… disappeared. Like he got up and left. I summoned Crowley hours ago. He… hasn’t come yet. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

Castiel grabbed the back of a chair for support as he shook his head. He was nauseous and hungry.

“Are you okay? You look… pale.”

“Yeah… it’s just I’m human and need to eat.”

“Really? Human. Well, help yourself to a peanut butter and jelly.”

Before Castiel could move a voice sounded, the accent thick. “A peanut butter and jelly sandwich sounds lovely.  I’ll take one with the crusts cut off.”

Castiel spun around and Sam rose successfully from his chair this time. Crowley stood with a smug smile firmly in place with a black eyed Dean in a clean pair of blue jeans and a shining new leather jacket standing stoically by his side.

“Dean…” Castiel gasped.

“Meet my new First Knight, fellas. But I think you might already know him.”

Dean blinked and his green eyes shined unnaturally emerald, and void of emotion. An empty smile curled Dean’s lips. “Hello Cas. Sam.” He spun around. “How do you like my new duds?”

“First Knight? God Dammit Crowley! I knew it was you! I knew you shouldn’t have trusted him, Dean!” Sam yelled and slurred.

“Settle down, Moose. I didn’t know this would happen. After all, it was only a rumor really… hardly to be believed. But when our good friend Dean here, had the good sense to go and get himself skewered… Well, we’re lucky the Mark of Cain and the First Blade brought him back to us, aren’t we?”

Cas stepped forward, his eyes studying Dean curiously. He got close enough to Dean that he could have reached out and touched the blinding silver buttons on his jacket.

Dean’s eyes followed him, his jaw clenching. “You’re human,” he stated.

“I had to come back and find you… something wasn’t… right. I could feel it. And now…” Tears welled up in Castiel’s eyes.

“I’m sorry you molted your feathers for nothing. He’ll be playing backyard games with me now. With this brute by my side any Abbadon loyalists out there should quickly find themselves pledging their allegiance to yours truly.”

“You son of a bitch,” Castiel growled and pulled a fist back ready to lunge at Crowley. But Crowley didn’t flinch and in fractions of a second Dean pulled both of Castiel’s arms behind his back and pinned him down on the tabletop.

Crowley chuckled. “I love a good lover’s quarrel. But I’m afraid we have to be going.”

Crowley tapped a hand to Dean’s shoulder and Dean let go.  Castiel spun around, his hand grasping a handful of Dean’s jacket at his arm. “I’ll find a way to save you, Dean. If it’s the last thing I do.”

Dean’s hand came up and cupped Castiel’s face. “Thanks, sweetheart. But uh… I don’t need saving.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and they were gone.

Castiel turned around and collapsed down into a chair, the air gone from his chest along with a heart that had been crushed to dust. He put his elbows on the table, his face in his hands and he wept. 


End file.
